AN :
Next goal for another extra chapter is 150 power stones.
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait. The more Power Stones you offer, the faster the chapters come.
...
( Qyburn POV )
Qyburn walked through the cold, candle-lit hallway, steam rising from the bowl of stew in his hands. This was, in fact, not the sort of career he had imagined making for himself in the Westerlands.
It was one thing to be requested as a personal healer by a Lannister lordling. That sounded glamorous, offered him political protection from his numerous foes, and saw him tangentially involved in some of the greatest feats of genius that Westeros had seen in centuries.
It was another thing to play personal tender to a sick, if clever, child with a sharp temper while staying in a frigid, tiny castle on the barren coasts of the Westerlands.
Still, Qyburn supposed. He wouldn't have one without the other. So no matter if his considerable talents were being squandered on something trivial, it was still better to be working for someone who appreciated those talents than not.
The Black Maester pushed his way into the bedroom with his shoulder. It was spartan for a noble, doubly so compared to the rooms at Casterly Rock. Even Qyburn's room there was fancier. Still, the great fireplace on one side kept it quite a lot warmer than the rest of the castle, and where it lacked in proper tapestries to retain the heat, thick carpets had been hung on the walls.
Lord Callum was sitting in a cushioned chair to one side of the room, wrapped in blankets. The lad had a stack of papers in front of him, as was his natural state, and seemed to be sketching something out with a quill pen.
"You may want to clear your work back, milord," Qyburn commented dryly, carrying over the stew in his hands.
"Ah! Qyburn, I didn't notice you come in. Thank you." Callum said, setting his pen down and pushing his papers back. He took the stew cheerfully.
"It's only my duty Milord," Qyburn said, though he appreciated the gratitude. "How are you feeling?"
"I still have a fever, I can feel it, but I'm getting dreadfully bored," Callum grumbled, before shoveling down a few spoonfuls of the thick beef and carrot stew. "My head has been clearer at least. I've gotten a bit of work done."
Qyburn glanced over at the papers in question. It looked like one of the young lord's 'electrical' sketches, given the number of wires involved, but Qyburn was hardly the expert on those. Still, he was bored himself, so he took the seat across from the boy and started to look through the papers. "What are you working on?" He asked, glancing through the materials.
"Well- I've got an idea for a form of electrical communications," Callum explained in between continuing to eat his soup. "The basic principle is that you can reconnect and disconnect an electrical circuit using a switch or lever. If you have a noise maker- something I've already worked out about a year ago, then it will buzz whenever the circuit is connected, and be silent when it is not."
"So it could be an alarm bell of sorts?" Qyburn asked, but Callum shook his head.
"Not quite. It's more of a replacement for Ravens." He said quietly. "If you could run a copper- or more likely an iron wire between say, here and Casterly Rock, then you could send messages back and forth essentially instantaneously. The means for doing so would be a switch that could be pressed down for different amounts of time to signal different letters. For example-" the boy made a buzz with his lips. "A long buzz or a short buzz could be differentiated from the noisemaker and used to decode messages. It would be many times faster and more reliable than Ravens."
"I cannot imagine that would be inexpensive," Qyburn commented. "Even with the cost of your mother's statue in comparison."
"It most certainly would not be inexpensive." Callum agreed. "But it would be worthwhile. It would enormously increase the speed of our communications, and thus the speed of everything else we do." The boy scratched his chin. "I wish I could do the same for transportation, but the solution to that problem eludes me. Our metalworking isn't good enough for the mechanical solutions I've devised."
Qyburn snorted, amused at the boy's arrogance, though still impressed by his ingenuity. The Lannisters truly had no concept of the wealth that they wielded. Or at least Callum didn't. The sheer insanity of scale with what he proposed. Casterly Rock was over 200 miles and 3 mountain ranges away, but he was more concerned about blacksmithing than the costs involved. Qyburn couldn't have asked for a wealthier patron. Not without going to either the boy's father or the Iron Bank of Braavos.
"At any rate, the actual plan for the system is already sound. The difficulty is that as electricity passes through a wire it loses energy, which means that on such a long wire, it will likely not carry enough charge to reach the buzzer on the other end." Callum paused for a moment, downing the rest of his soup straight from the edge of the bowl. "And for that, I need to make an entirely new system. That's what's making it hard." He grinned cheerfully. "I need something that will take the weaker charge it receives on one end, and then send it down the next section of wire stronger, maintaining the strength regardless of the distances involved. That's what I'm working on now."
Qyburn smiled, glancing down at the papers again, to see if he could make anything of the child's wild designs, but he was interrupted by a knocking at the door.
"Come in," Callum said quickly, looking up from the chair.
"Message for you Millord." One of Lord Tygett's cavalrymen said. "Just came by courier from your uncle."
"Hmm?" Callum looked up, blinking, and shuffled over to take the letter, leaving his blankets behind him on the chair. "Thank you."
"Of course Milord." The man looked like he wanted to be dismissed, but Callum did no such thing, tearing open the seal and reading the letter quickly. Qyburn watched as his master and (presently) charge grew more alarmed with each passing moment.
"Damn it…" he muttered, frowning. "Damn it-damn it. You- Philup yes? Get three healthy men on their horses as fast as you can. -The courier wasn't a knight was he?"
"No Milord. It was Jacen." Philup nodded. "And Milord- your uncle took all the horses from the stables when he went East. We've only the one Jacen arrived on, and it's bone tired."
"Then I'm of the highest rank in Reddinghall." Callum wiped his mouth, and Qyburn frowned as the boy clearly tried to drop his voice, but had little luck, sounding more nasal than commanding. "Tell the men to get cart horses- anything they can find from nearby farms. My uncle says the Main fleet of the Ironborn is coming this way. I need scouts."
"Yes, Milord." Philup nodded, and even Qyburn felt panic shoot up his spine. The Ironborn could already be in the region, given the time it took for a courier to ride from the running country. As the man left, Callum sighed, sitting down on his bed as the energy seems to flow out of him.
"Red -Port is naught ten miles from here, and the beaches of the Hullock too. We could already have an Ironborn host descending on us as we speak." Callum coughed into his hand as he finished speaking. Qyburn winced. That stress wasn't good for his health.
"You're in no condition to command the castle Milord," Qyburn said slowly. "It's be best if…"
"If what- I hand it to some bumpkin who doesn't know how to read a map- much less plan for a siege? I may not have experience, but I at least have theory. My Uncle's men don't even have that." Callum snapped. "Half of them are sicker than I am."
That wasn't quite accurate in Qyburn's opinion. While several men had gotten sick from the wet and cold, a man's body could better handle disease than a boy's. Most were in better condition than Callum at least. Still, Qyburn deferred. In his experience, it was best to defer to the Lords when it came to war.
"And not to mention- Redport. If the Ironborn aren't there already, I'll need to protect them." Callum held his hand to his forehead. "This is cursed timing, but we must do our duty as the times require."
"That is the prevailing wisdom, yes," Qyburn grumbled, following behind as Callum made his way out of the room, shuffling out to the courtyard, where men hadn't yet started to drift back in with horses. Callum raised his voice, straining as he tried to catch the attention of the men on watch.
"I have good news and bad news, all of you." Callum walked towards the raised platform in the square, shivering slightly as a cold wind passed through the holdfast. "The good news- My Uncle Tygett cut off a third of the enemy fleet on the Running River." Callum's voice grew pinched, and he coughed several times into his hand. Still, there were cheers from the men who were slowly starting to gather. "The bad news is that the rest of the Ironborn fleet is coming our way. They've already burned Troutpoint, and Red-Port is no doubt next in their sights. We could be besieged here, though my uncle is no more than a week away and riding to our aid." There was tension as he began to speak, but the news that Lord Tygett would be coming swiftly lifted the spirits of the men. Men besieged in such conditions would be hopeless, but not with a large group of cavalry mere days away.
"That said, I've called men already to get horses, to scout our situation and find out where the Ironborn are." Callum continued. "In my Father and Uncle's stead, it is our duty to protect the people of the Westerlands, namely Red-Port and the farms and villages on the Hullock."
The men nodded in agreement. Though they were taking orders from a child half their age, they could accept it if he appealed to the authority of Lord Tywin and Lord Tygett. Though Qyburn suspected that if Callum asked them to do anything they didn't already agree with, he would face more doubt. None of these men would disagree though. They had taken up arms to protect the Northern Coast of the Westerlands, so why would they argue when asked to do just that?
Qyburn, for his part, frowned as Callum continued.
"While our scouts are doing their work, I will need a few other men to ride with me to Red-port. If the Ironborn have not yet sacked it, we will evacuate the village. There is no way we could defend it from the Ironborn until my uncle returns." Callum paused for a moment, catching his breath. "We'll bring the fighting men back here and arm them. The elders, women, and children we'll send with their fishing boats upriver, to spread the news at Humbleton, and flee to Geert's Gap. If the Ironborn go that far inland then we'll have ample time to warn them, and my Uncle will trap and slaughter them just as he did in the Running country."
Qyburn wanted to raise his voice. Callum should *not* be riding about the countryside sick. He shouldn't even be out here barking orders, but he couldn't do anything more than frown, lest he jeopardize the boy's already fragile authority over the fortress.
"Alright, that all said, who can tell me the state of our store-rooms? And what of the battlements? We may be under siege soon! Get crossbows ready!" Callum coughed, bending over slightly then shook his head. Yelling with a hoarse voice. "What are you doing? Get moving already!"
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